Colors That You've Shined
by digitaldreams11
Summary: Join your favorite Jedi Knight Rozen on an adventure of EPIC proportions in this third installment of the Rozen Saga! A strange new plague spreads in the wake of a new drug that supposedly gives it's user Force-like abilities! Will the Jedi stop the spread at the source in time? Read on and find out!
1. Chapter 1

**the colors that you've shined**

The Temple commons were warm and lively, filled with the chorus of jovial conversation and raucous laughter. Light from the setting sun filled the room with its golden glow as plates from the evening meal were cleared away. Bellies were full and spirits were high. This was the first time in Rozen's memory that the whole Temple was present for a meal. All of the missions had been completed with spectacular finesse, funding from Coruscant had been approved for continued and future missions, and best of all, all of this was achieved through no trivial amount of teamwork and camaraderie from the whole Temple. It had been an eventful year for Rozen. Two of her Apprentices had reached Knighthood, and she had made her own progress, training within the Force.

Rozen was pondering the miracle of strength and friendship when the floor shook with violent tremors. Drawn howls filled the suddenly silent room, and were quickly followed by hysterical laughter as a pair of Wookies emerged from behind a flipped table. Jiiscythe and Durotatha were grappling with mock ferocity, scraps of dinner flying from their gravy-matted fur.

Yes, even the Wookies were back.

Rozen was hovering groggily over the shoulder of the Zebrak who ran the night shift in the mission operations center, reading the screens as data slowly trickled in. A live holofeed was coming in from an offworld informant by the alias of Marren, and it had been flagged the highest priority. The signal originated from Hutt space, and that alone would have been enough to catch Rozen's attention. But if Marren's information was accurate, it could shake the foundations of the galaxy.

"I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. Once the Rodian injected the Lagol, he could do things. Levitate chairs, see things before they happen, that sort of thing. I don't know how long it lasts, and I haven't been able to get many more details besides the fact that the Hutts seem to be sliming at the mouth to find out who manufactured this drug."

"And you're sure it wasn't a scam? He might have been a Force Adept trying to sell off sugar pills…" Jen'ari interjected cautiously.

"Maybe. But if we're wrong, it is going to cost dearly. I know what my gut tells me, and I think you need to investigate this as soon as possible. I'll send you the rest of the data I've managed to gather, but I doubt it'll be much better than a poke in the eye."

"It'll be a place to start, Marren. Thank you, as ever, for the risks you take to bring us this information."

"In service to the Jedi, as ever." Said the Bothan before she switched off the transmission.

The briefing room was more cramped than ever before. Jedi of every flavor were present, from the tenacious humans and the gigantic Wookies, to the insightful Miraluka and persistent Miralaini. In the center stood an impressive Ithorian Master, demonstrating on the holoprojector the latest topical data from Soro Suub Maps.

"The orbital support team will comprise of Jiiscythe, Durotatha, ZonRii, Thunderwalker and myself. We will provide observational support at every level – ground, air and space. On the ground will be three teams. Forward reconnaissance will be conducted by Arigorn and Kat'hari. Ground level research and analysis will be conducted by Octagon and Juvehil. Infiltration will be conducted by Jen'ari and Rozen."

"What?!" yelped Rozen, nearly falling out of the chair she was rocking back in.

"What?!" piped in Jen'ari's voice from over the intercom. "Master Grayson, I think your teams need some tweaking. If we're going to be infiltrating a gangbanger warehouse in the middle of Hutt space, wouldn't we want to hide the fact that we're Jedi? No offence Roz, but you kind of stick out in a crowd."

Rozen rubbed the leather band that covered her vestigial eye sockets, a trademark of her Force-sensitive species.

Jiiscythe erupted in a gargle of growls, and Durotatha chuckled darkly as he reached to the floor under his chair. His hairy hand produced a collapsible white stick painted with red bands and tossed it to Rozen.

"Why do you even have this?!" Rozen shot an eyeless glare at Scythe and Duro. Pretending to be disabled had gotten her out of a few sticky situations before, but she was never comfortable with the deception.

Snorts of laughter filled the room for a few moments before Master Grayson hummed for silence.

"You all have your assignments. Orbital team will report to _The Vigilance_ and the rest will report to _The Stillness_ in two hours. May the Force be with you."

Two heavy transports dropped out of hyperspace around the orbit of the Hutt colony, Nar Kreeta, one early spring morning. The Dug at the monitors was fast asleep in the chair, hot mug of tarbean tea spilling carelessly from one limp hand. There was only one being to notice the first ship start to enter the atmosphere, while the second slipped into stable orbit outside of satellite range. The Bothan checked the pulse of the Dug, and quietly slipped out of the room.

The Stillness completed its landing procedure three miles outside of the small port city of Qareh without incident. The ship was nestled on a dry plateau high above sensor range. Octagon and Juvehil were unpacking portions of the ship into a miniature version of the Temple's operations center. There was also a small lab for chemical analysis and small manufacturing of whatever might be needed for the mission. Rozen was surprised that it had been passed in Coruscant's budget committee.

A mile ahead, the Mirialani named Kat'hari and the Togruta, Arigorn were approaching the city from two separate directions dressed in the rags of desert nomads. They would not be out of place, with the dryness of spring bringing out their countless numbers in search of water. While the teams waited for any information regarding the strange 'Force drug', Jen'ari and Rozen reviewed the facts.

"So we know it comes in liquid form, most likely designed for direct injection into the bloodstream. I'd bet it is fantastically difficult to manufacture, or we would have had more than just this one report, if it's not a swindle. The affects are almost instantaneous, but it's still unclear how long it lasts, and how it exits the system." Rambled Rozen.

"We also know the Hutts don't have control of it yet. So who does?" added Jen'ari.

Hours passed as the teams prepared to discover the answers. High in orbit, a single ship revolved with silently furious activity.

Sparks flew from the tiny recess that was the access point to a long-range communications array on The Vigilance. Wookie howls followed the sharp odor of singed Wookie hair. The black-and-tan Wookie affectionately nicknamed Duro sat just outside of the recess, arms flopped lazily and a bored expression on his face. His brother, who everyone else referred to as Scythe, stuck his black-and-silver furred hand around the corner and gestured wildly. Duro handed him a hydrospanner without even looking, and Scythe chuffed impatiently as sparks continued to fly from behind the panel.

In the mobile operations center, Zon was busy pouring over all of the local data he could come by. Trade ships and passenger transport arrivals, cargo manifests and security reports. Qareh's local holonews streamed from a small monitor, its volume barely audible. Thunderwalker was deep in meditation in one corner of the room, searching the Force for signs of disturbances in the city.

The cockpit of The Vigilance was cramped to the massive Ithorian, Grayson. He preferred the presence of the living world beneath his feet to a hunk of metal floating in an ocean of stars. Letting out slow, thrumming sigh, he let his concerns slip away into the Force, and continued to monitor the life support statistics and orbital trajectory. There were a lot of pieces in play, Grayson felt, and it felt like he was being played. He had no real evidence of this, but he could not ignore his gut. He had a bad feeling about this mission.

The port city of Qareh was a canyon of rust and sand. The salt flats deposited by the ocean, combined with frequent sandstorms, left the city pitted and cracked. Kat'hari's mouth was constantly dry, and everything was starting to smell like dried spit. Her dialect with the nomads was just as rusty, which she managed to pass off as the side-effect of a year-long solitary sojourn. Her face was so smeared with dust and grime, she doubted they noticed the green tint of her skin.

There were apparently a very deep connection between these retreats of the desert nomads and the return to the city, and they accorded her deep respect from the people, as well as open access to news over the last year.

The nomads had been very busy, according to Kat'hari's new friend, 'Ammar. Another new gang had been setting up shop under the Hutt's noses, and had been using the Nomads as a smuggling ring to a distant outpost. They had a massive warehouse in town that they had heavily guarded, until recently, when they just closed up shop and left. Since then, things have been quiet in the city. 'Ammar had also lamented the increasing number of spice dens since their departure. Usman, his brother, had gotten himself hooked on one of the new drugs, and incurred a large debt to the den's grantor.

"New drug? Can you describe it to me?"

'Ammar chucked darkly. "It turned him into lead, though he swore he could fly. The Dhimmi here had a word for it. Lagol. Midisynth. We Badawe just call it Parai. False hope."

88888888

"Heads up, incoming link to Arigorn is patching through." Juvehil called out to the other Jedi in vicinity to The Stillness.

"Kat'hari - zzz - guru of Badwe Tri -zzZZ- going to investigate –z- lead to outpost –ZZZZZZzzz—Alhaiim smugglers."

Octagon frowned through his filtration mask. "See if we can't clean this up a bit. I think I know where he's heading, though."

"We've got enough to go on." Started Jen'ari. "I'm going to check out some of the spice dens and see what Womp rats I can't scare out."

"I've had Zon keeping an eye on the warehouses, and we've pinpointed a few that fit the description. We'll check them out after the spice den." Rozen said as she threw on a ragged poncho and extended the white-and-red banded walking stick, tapping experimentally along the floor.

Jen'ari took her by the back of the arm, as they started the long trek into town.

"Come on, Roz. We gotta make this look real."

"I don't think it requires me punching you, Jen'ari!"

"A Grantor's trust is hard to earn, especially when you look like a shiny undercover cop. Now come on."

"I really don't…"

"You remember when Scythe blamed you for his missing shilli cheese dog?"

"… yes."

"It was me."

WHACK

The gangliest looking couple walked through the cantina's door that Ranjeet had ever seen. The female was obviously cripple, but seemed to be half-carrying her male through the door. Blood trickled down the corner of his mouth, and she looked upset and exhausted.

_Great. Another mugging. Well, too bad for them, I'm not about to call Security for something this small. _Thought the old Rodian.

To his surprise she simply balanced the male on a bench, Zabrak by the looks of him. Shouting into the fairly-empty cantina, she ordered a Gardulla and something stronger for the male.

_Well, if they've got the money to spare… they don't look like they'd be much trouble. Easy marks, if they're as lightweight as they look._

"Take him around the back. You both look like you could use a few hours to glide."

As Rozen pretended to struggle with the weight of Jen'ari while tapping her way around the room, Jen'ari leaned in close and whispered in her ear.

"Gotta make this look real."

"Damn! What happened to him!"

"I don't know, I found him just outside the gate like this. I got worried when he didn't check in, and it's pretty much how I found him!"

"Get him inside. First medical bay. Juvehil, make sure you take a sample of his blood."

"You sure he's got enough to spare, Oc? He looks pretty beat up…"

"Look at him with eyes within the Force. He will be fine. It looks like we've received a message from the dealer."

Arigorn's mind spun wildly, and he felt like he had been run through a meat grinder, and that was just on the outside. Inside, his blood seemed to run like lead. Bile rose up his throat as he fought panic. Every time he tried to reach out to the Force, he hit a wall.

"No, no. None of that my friend." Octagon said reassuringly. "What you're feeling is only temporary. Just relax. You're safe now."

Arigorn winced as a needle pierced his vein, and then fell back into blackness.

Zon looked up from the screen showing the holonews the same time Thunderwalker came out of her meditation. On the news, a report of a virulent infection beginning to spread throughout Khalil, a small outpost just a few miles north of Qareh.

"Zon, I need a comm line to the ground team. Something's changed."

"Here." He said, handing her a headset.

"Juvehil? That outpost northeast of your position just had a massive disturbance in the Force… no, not death. More like, corruption. Yes. Yes. I'll keep my eyes on it."

Rozen was lounging in the cantina, nursing her Gardulla and giving Jen'ari a wide berth for his interrogations, when a middle-aged human male was shoved through the front doors. Following closely behind were two Gamorrean thugs laughing and taunting in a guttural language. The man cringed, and through the Force, Rozen could see he was badly bruised and severely dehydrated.

Pulling her cane forward, she started tapping the ground in front of her, as if searching for the source of the commotion. The Rodian gestured one of the Gamorreans to follow him around the back, while the other stayed with the man. With one meaty hand, he shoved him down onto a stool and hit him on the back of the head while gesturing a downward pointed finger. As the Gamorrean helped himself to the tap behind the bar, Rozen checked the time. If the Grantor and his ugly friend weren't back in 5 minutes, she was going to have to check in on Jen'ari.

As the man on the stool began to weep openly, Rozen decided to give Jen'ari 10 minutes. She had something else she wanted to take care of, first.

5


	2. Chapter 2

Jen'ari was lounging in a nest of burlap sack pillows, allowing the flow of Lagol to course in his veins. He was able to burn off the more poisonous effects, and was simply waiting for the right opportunity to question the Grantor about his dealer. In the meantime, he discovered that the human collapsed to his right was having an affair with a Trandoshan, the Twi'lek across from him had run away from a brothel from a neighboring town because of some plague outbreak, and that the Devlikk in the corner was blowing all of his Womp Rat race winnings in this place. Not that it mattered, since the Rodian had already emptied the Devlikk's pockets while he was passed out.

The human on his right groaned, rolled over onto his side and vomited. He looked grey and sickly. Jen'ari reached a hand gently across the bank of pillows, and felt for the man's wrist. The pulse was sluggish and heavy, less than 50 beats per minute by his count. His temperature felt normal, which seemed strange, and Jen'ari was about to try to sit up and check closer when the Twi'lek started to scream.

"Plague! He has it! Get me out of here!"

The Rodian and a Gamorrean ran into the room, the former with a long-handled mop in hand.

"Oh blast. Another one. Help me get him out of here. You there, woman, SHUT UP."

The Rodian was using the mop handle to try and pry the man off the ground. As he grabbed one flaccid arm, the human whipped around to Jen'ari, sniffing wildly. Its eyes had turned dull, almost lifeless, but with a horrible gurgle, tried to snap and bite at him. Black spittle ran down from the corner of the mouth, and the room was suddenly filled with a foul odor.

Without comment, Jen'ari kicked a booted heel up into the man's face, snapping the jaw shut over the tongue.

The cantina emptied rapidly of all the patrons, and nobody noticed as Jen'ari slipped the tip of a tongue into a small plastic bag. Wobbling gently, he made his own way to the exit.

Rozen had been considering several different options on how to get the man free while still giving her time to get to Jen'ari, when a commotion arose in the back room that solved her problem for her. In the distraction of the commotion, she simply grabbed the man's arm and yanked him off his stool.

"Help me out!" She whispered fiercely. Unfortunately, his Gamorrean captor had been watching for something like this, and made to grab Rozen. With deftness and grace, she whipped the stick over the nerve of his forearm, deadening the limb. She jammed one end into the pig-faced guard's throat, crushing his windpipe, and was satisfied to note that the stick only flexed to support the tension. She'd have to ask the Wokkiees if it was made from Wroshyr.

As they made their way into the street, began to scrawl the letter 'J' in Aurebesh wherever she could find enough grime or sand to make the mark.

"Where are we going? Where are you taking me?" Asked the man in a frightened voice.

"There's an abandoned warehouse up ahead. We'll be safe enough in there, for the time being. What's your name?"

" Ladwe. Pol Ladwe. I… thank you. Back there. I didn't expect a blind woman to be such a good fighter."

Rozen sighed at the irony.

The small medbay was crammed with Jedi attending to the many details of the investigation. Between the reviewing of the data gleaned from Arigorn's blood, to analyzing the details of his apparent capture and drugging, nobody noticed that one of the floor panels on the starboard causeway was quietly opening. The small creature quietly replaced the panel and ran down the ramp, as silent as a ghost.

Zon's information was dead on. The warehouse was completely abandoned, and Rozen made good use of the small office. It was sweltering, but it had comfortable chairs and a good view of the city's wharf district. She sat Pol down on one of the chairs and gave him the water she carried under the poncho. It was only a small flask, but it was mineral water, and should help him recover. She felt over his bruises with a tender hand, checking for breaks.

"You never told me your name." Pol asked in a quiet voice.

Rozen considered for a moment. "Roseline. Roseline Tagalen."

"Well, Roseline, you sure seem to be staring out the window a lot, for a blind woman."

She smiled. "I've always loved the feel of the sun. It's always reminded me that eyesight isn't everything."

Pol joined her at the window and placed his hand on her shoulder.

"You have no idea how difficult these last few years have been for me. I don't know how else to say thank you, but you saved my life. Whatever was left of it, belongs to you now."

"That's really not necessary, it was noth-" Her nose filled with a sudden and very familiar scent, and for a moment she couldn't place it.

Rozen's breath caught in her throat. His hand felt like a live wire on her. Pol pulled her into his arms, squeezing her so tight she never noticed the needle that pierced her poncho, or the skin beneath.

"In the end, you really were blind, you know."

Jen'ari's head was starting to clear, and he was unimpressed with the Lagol. He needed to find Rozen and get back to The Stillness while there was still something of it left in his system, however. He had a strong suspicion that this 'plague' was tied to the Lagol in some way.

Rozen's trail was easy enough to follow. Not only did her walking stick leave a distinctive trail for him to follow, the intermittent 'J's confirmed the way. So when he got to the warehouse only to find it empty, his confusion turned to concern. He had just wrapped up a quick perimeter search when he noticed the door to the office had been propped open with a flask.

He removed the flask, and the back of the door revealed a syringe stabbed into the wood pressboard as it swung shut.

Temperature alerts were going off all over The Vigilance, and Master Grayson had to holler over the yowling of the Wokkiees to get their attention.

"GraaaawwWWWlll! RrraaWWWAAAAgrrraaAAh!" Declared Scythe.

"Fine, fine, but what's causing the sparks?"

"GHHRRRaaaaaWWWWWWlll." Chimed in Duro.

"What?! Why didn't you tell me earlier? How long has it been down?"

"Rgggllarr." Said Scythe.

"Woooof." Corrected Duro.

Grayson tossed his arms up in exasperation.

"Look, just get it to stop sparking, alright? We'll break out a replacement from the cargo hold as soon as it's stable. Next time just tell me these things as they happen, alright?" The Ithorian Master stalked away to the cargo hold to retrieve the spare motherboard that controlled the ship's hyperspace communication array.

Duro's grin was manic as Scythe turned to glare at him. Before the blink of an eye, Scythe was after him, hydrospanner in hand, and every intention to use it.

The hardest part was always lying still. Rozen was pissed. Pissed at herself, mostly. What a stupid way to slip up. The gravtruck she had apparently been loaded into swayed steeply where one of the magnets was giving out. Two men with blasters were sitting over her with blasters drawn. She didn't recognize either of them.

Using as little energy as possible, she reached out into the Force, and felt her surroundings. She felt that she was maybe three miles out from the city, following the coastline. She thought, maybe if she could reach out, find Jen'ari or The Stillness, she could alert the other Jedi to her presence.

"Ohhh, look at that, she's trying to be sneaky." Came Pol's voice from within the cab.

Rozen lashed out with a boot at the taller guard to her right, but short lefty already came down with a foot heavy on her shoulder. She had just enough time to spit into the wind and reach out as far as she could into the Force before a fresh needle stabbed her thigh. Blackness clawed back up to her.

Damn she hated needles.

Thunderwalker lurched back into reality and scrambled over to the open console. Zon was asleep in an alcove, so she launched a search herself. The impressions she received from Rozen came through clear as day, from the color and model of the gravtruck to the appearance and uniform of everyone in it.

While the system was searching for description matches, she gently booted Zon awake and clicked the commlink over to Juvehil's channel. After quickly relaying the vehicle description and route, she checked the results of her search.

Interesting. One positive match.

"Whoa. When did he get eyes?!"

5


	3. Chapter 3

Kat'hari and Jen'ari were prepping a speederbike to go after the gravtruck, while a somewhat recovered Arigorn was busy analyzing the results of the chemical analysis of his blood work. His memory was still hazy, but he did recall a few important things. When he got to the Nomad's compound, he was attacked immediately by three guards. He had disarmed two of the men, quite literally, and managed to get past the gates and see rows of barred crates. Some seemed to be filled with grey humanoid corpses. Another held a cluster of Bothans, looking worn and terrified. That's when something pierced his neck, and the world went dark.

"Would you look at this!" Exclaimed Octagon. "Oh, this is clever. Synthetic midichlorians. They fill the bloodstream, but have no way to exit the system. The high is just low-grade Spice, but these synthetic cells are just strong enough to get the user to feel the Force. After prolonged use, they start to clog the blood stream like so many clots. Here's where it gets clever. Based on my examination of the tongue, and Jen'ari's account of the situation, the body begins to associate the high with Midichlorians. Any Force Adept, Jedi or otherwise, who uses this drug wouldn't feel any effects besides the high because they've already got a sustained … dose… if you will. But to the average sentient being…" he trailed off ominously.

Rozen's mouth was dry as paper, and her skin ached as if it was sunburned. Maybe worst of all, she couldn't see. The Force, her constant companion since birth, was out of her reach. In shock, she marveled how similar to a lifeless sack of meat she resembled.

Trying to still her mind, Rozen took a deep breath and focused on what she could feel with her body. The poncho and utility belt were gone. She had trousers and her tank style under tunic, but no boots or socks. Although she was kneeling on hard sand, she could feel bonds shackling her legs at the ankles with enough slack for a half step, nothing more. Her arms were similarly bound behind her with old-fashioned steel binders. There would be no twisting of ropes, then. She had to lean back and grope for what was pinning her to the ground. i_Ah, a metal stake_./i She could feel a small loop on the top that contained the binders and shackles.

Rozen took another deep breath. Despite the heat and the stress, her heartbeat felt slower. Almost sluggish. There was no breeze, but she could smell traces of the creosote that survived in the salt flats. So, an open air compound, decidedly far from the city and its coastline. She could barely make out the sound of soft gurgling, or growling, offset by quiet weeping. It seemed pretty far away, but before she could try to gauge distance, boot steps crunching on hard sand behind her demanded her full attention. Tall, judging by its pace. When it placed a standard size twelve boot against her back, she became sure of it. Her limbs ached and twisted as the full weight of the boot drove her face into the sand.

The crushing weight of the boot caused something in her back to pop, and Rozen screamed. It felt like someone had stabbed a hot hydrospanner between her ribs, and every breath was agony. The skin on her wrists and forehead tore as she tried to angle away from the pressure. The boot finally let up, only to kick her stomach. All the breath in her lungs came out in a rush, and none would come to fill its place. Fury replaced fear. She'd had enough of this mission, this planet, and this series of messes she was lead to, one after another.

She leaned against the dislocated rib, and despite her pain, the lungs inhaled. Rolling backwards at the wooshing sound, the next kick missed entirely and caught her attacker off balance. Using her leather headband as a cushion, she brought her head forward with all the force she could muster, bashing the tall attacker in the soft instep of a knee. i_So, human after all, are you? /i _As she brought up her shoulder for a follow-up, a fist rained down hard on the side of her head, and pain exploded in Rozen's ears. A large hand, as hard as a rock, closed over her throat and lifted her off the ground. The old wound burst into horrible life, and she barely noticed the hand that ripped off her headband.

In a small control room, a Bothan sat attentively at the displays. The expression in her eyes told of a year of deep suffering as she looked at the compound from a satellite feed. She hesitated at the keyboard, but finally gave in. A string of code was being delivered simultaneously to The Stillness and The Vigilance. On another screen, a swoop bike was tearing away through a highway, towards an outcropping of rock and a false gate. With a small tear, she stepped over the lifeless body of the original operator, and locked the room behind her.

Juvehil gazed blearily out of the ramp of The Stillness into the setting sun. He let it burn a soft afterimage before looking away, and traced the colors with his eyes. He was seven ways kind of bored, while the action seemed to pass him by. Octagon was busy trying to manufacture multiple samples of what was hoped to be an antidote to the effects of the Lagol.

The Vigilance maintained its orbit around Nar Kreeta, and so far things seemed to be progressing well. Thunderwalker and Zon were busy double-checking and cross-referencing all of the data received from Octagon, and trying to reconstruct a model of the compounds used in Lagol. The Wookiees had just finished replacing the motherboard for the comm array, and Grayson was running diagnostics to make sure it was working properly. Engine burns were common to maintain course headings, so nobody noticed when one failed to fire at its interval. The Vigilance began to wander deeper into the satellite dead zone.

i_This must be what hell got its inspiration from_./i

Rozen was ready to call it a day. Maybe throw in a towel. Sure, it made her a big baby, and not a battle-hardened Jedi, but she just wanted to go home. She could feel the chair she was sitting in, and the world through the Force was starting to come in as just one big haze.

Everything hurt. She was a wreck, and there was no surprise when she was able to shift in the chair without any restraints. She probably couldn't walk away if it meant her life. The Force was just the tiniest of trickles, but it was enough. Her blood started to flow out of painful bruises, as bones began to knit.

"My Lord…" called a voice behind her. " She's waking up again."

"It's about time. Give me that."

That familiar scent suddenly surrounded Rozen, and she jerked as a thin needle pinched her neck. Her tongue felt thick and her limbs turned to lead, but consciousness and the Force stayed with her. Gathering the inner heat into her belly, she tried to raise her body temperature. Maybe she could burn off the drug before they noticed…

"Well, since you are the guest of honor, I suppose there are introductions that need to be made."

Pol's face came into view as he leaned in close.

"You really don't recognize me, do you?" he murmured idly, just a breath away from Rozen's face. He reached up to his face with both hands, and to her horror, pulled out his eyes. Cybernetic sockets blinked in their place, and scars from the plastic surgery became suddenly very clear.

"Do you remember that feeling you got in the Cantina? Did you feel that sudden instinct? The subconscious impulse to drop everything, and come to the rescue of some stranger?"

"Oh come on now, no need to play coy. We both know you'd throw yourself in front of a charging Rancor if I asked you to. It's just the way you were trained. Because I'm not 'someone'. Not to you. "

"i_Addestratore/i_." She spit with as much venom as she could muster.

"Archaic, but I'm glad to see you didn't bury the memories too deeply. I need you to focus, now, because the main event is just about to begin!" he said as he popped the cybernetic eyes back into their sockets. Rozen's vision was getting better, and she could make out a large concrete pit in front of her, like the base of a deep swimming pool. In the center was a terrified Rodian. And at the far end was a cage… a cage full of corpses. Some seemed to writhe and drool, while gurgling gasses escaped through broken and bloody lips. Rozen tried to lean forward to get a clearer look.

i_Was one of them chewing the bar?!_/i

Pol, her old Addestratore, let out a dark chuckle that echoed flatly in the concrete room.

The sun was just beginning to set as dust billowed in great clouds around the swoop bike that carried the two Jedi, Jen'ari and Kat'hari. Ahead were the plasteel gates where Arigorn had been found hours earlier. The Force roiled within the Jedi. Death and suffering had scarred this place, and the Dark Side of the Force was creeping in at the edges of Jen'ari's perception. The gates were badly dented and warped, with blaster fire scouring much of the surface. Black blood showed in splashes and in pools, but there was no sign of any bodies.

The bike slowed to a halt, the engine rumbled into silence behind an outcropping of rock. Jen'ari didn't see any other signs of life, but this place made him cautious. The Jedi stalked the gate, sabers ready in hand for battle.

Kat'hari took the lead, and with a gentle nudge from the Force, leaped to the top of the gate and crouched low to hide her silhouette. There was no sign of life inside the tiny compound. Just a cluster of open and empty shipping freights. A small office stood open and abandoned, the door hanging on a single hinge. Something was caught between the jamb and the door. She leaped into the shadow of the wall and stalked her way around the compound to the office to get a better look.

Jen'ari had wormed his way through the blasted gate and was inspecting the nearest freight. More evidence of black blood, but nothing else. There were plenty of marks in the sand, mostly long scrapes with bare hand and footprints. If he had to guess, this was once a waypost for slavers. It wasn't a stretch to add together the black blood and the examples he had seen of short-term Lagol use to see what was going on here.

He was about to report his findings to The Stillness when the sound of a lightsaber igniting captured his full attention.

Kat'hari stared in horror at the corpse caught between the jamb and the ruined door. It was grey and twisted, with clouded eyes staring at her with vacant hatred. Its mouth was frozen in a twisted snarl of broken teeth, and tar-like saliva seemed to be dripping slowly from its mouth. She stepped warily around it, trying to make sense of the scene in front of her. She was just a few steps away from the corpse when it began to wiggle and slither out of the door.

Like a millipede, the flesh of the corpse writhed on the ground towards her feet. Its eyes continued to lock onto her, the mouth stretching cavernously wide. The bones of the jaw broke and shattered, and she could see the row of shattered teeth growing longer. It slithered and lunged for her leg as Kat'hari ignited her saber and beheaded it in one swift stroke. The decapitated head gnashed uselessly as the body writhed in circles on the ground. As she tried to slow her breathing and calm her nerves, the sheet-metal wall of the office banged and shuddered violently. The door swung open slowly on its only hinge, revealing a room full of glittering eyes in its black depths.

"Jen'ari! We've got to get out of here!"

The Stillness was alive with a flurry of activity in the setting sun. Juvehil was busy securing the contents for a rapid liftoff, while Octagon was bringing the engines out of standby. The emergency signal from Jen'ari required prompt intervention. The data relay to The Vigilance was taxing the communication system's bandwidth to the max, and the centrifuges were still working hard to manufacture a cure to the Lagol. Still in orbit, The Vigilance was modifying the cure, preparing it for aerosol delivery. Monitors blazed with readouts tended by Zon and Thunderwalker. In the background, the holonews was reporting on the active quarantines of several colony cities as local militia was being deployed. At the helm, Grayson was beginning to relax when the newly-repaired hyperspace communications array beeped an alert. Grayson dove for the ship's intercom.

"Jedi, secure all gear and get to your encounter posts! We have a heavily modified Acclamator inbound!"

Ardeep had once thought of himself as a good hunter. He was a favored son of the Neetaka Clan on Rodia, but the constant conflicts that defined his species had taxed his family to the core. Supplying his talents to the Hutts was only the only course that left his Clan any benefit, so off he went in search of golden prey. He'd done some pretty nasty things in the course of his hunt for a few credits, so when a human offered him a year's worth of salary to take some new vaccine and a holorecording, it seemed almost too good to be true. Everything seemed to fall apart after that. The tweaky human called Pol was leading this little test, and gave him the Lagol with his own hands. It changed his whole world. For just a few hours, he felt like he was living his childhood dream. He was Jedi! He could read the mind of anyone in the room, and toss a chair across a field without touching it. He felt a connection to something greater than himself and his small life. It was just another pipe dream, though. He had woken up, and was left with a hollow pit of craving that he spent every last credit trying to fill. Except they wouldn't give him any more of the Lagol. Not the real stuff anyways. Now, after he had spent his last credit on the stuff, he was stuck in an empty swimming pool on some Force-forsaken backwater outpost with the Captain-Commander of Crazy.

At least he wasn't alone in this hell-hole. Some poor skirt had gotten herself mixed up in this, deeper than him by the looks of her. But then they uncovered the crate of ghouls, and the Rodian knew with a sinking dread that this was the end of his hunt.

When the cage door slid open, a torrent of bodies slithered into the pool. It took all of Ardeep's strength to adhere his suckered fingertips and climb the wall. Beneath him, the grey bodies writhed languidly. He had managed to throw one arm over the lip of the pool, and was staring plaintively at the crazy man.

"Dolpee kikyuna! Help me!"

Ardeep grind wildly as Pol reached for his arm. It faded as Pol produced a needle, and injected the contents into his shoulder. The world spun for half a moment before the Force embraced him once again. iAh! Lagol! Now I can be the Jedi, and win my freedom from the Hutts!/i he thought with relief.

Beneath the Rodian, the horrid pool of ghouls churned and groaned with ravenous hunger.

"You see?" murmured Pol. "They smell the Midichlorians in your blood." He put a boot to the side of Ardeep's head, and shoved. The Rodian fell backwards with almost comical slowness as grey arms reached up and around him. Blood curdling screams were swiftly replaced by the sound of cracking bones.

The Stillness shuddered violently as thermals bucked the wings. An interstellar transport of this size was never meant for low-altitude, high-speed maneuvering, but Octagon was a skilled pilot. He knew this ship's capabilities like his own two feet, and the Force was with him.

At 230mph, the transport arrived at Jen'ari's coordinates within moments. For a half mile in every direction, the ground swarmed with a writhing mass of gray bodies. They seemed to be pouring endlessly from the compound, and a quick seismic survey revealed a massive cave network beneath the structure. Just outside the front gates whirled a pair of green and purple silhouettes of two Jedi fighting for their lives. They were several yards away from the outcropping that hid the swoop bike, and surrounded on all sides.

"Juvehil! Forward turret, let's give them some cover!" he called through the intercom.

Just above the cockpit's bay, a small turret rotated and locked onto target. A red laser swept a wide arc, clearing a path for the Jedi. Precise strikes landed rapidly, and the Jedi were able to leap onto the bike. In seconds, it roared to life. The race was on to get out alive!

Leaning deeply into the turns, the swoop bike strained against gravity. Sparks flew wildly as metal kissed the remains of the duracrete roadway. The smell of charred flesh was replaced by the smell of burning repulsor fluid as the small engine scrambled for traction on the gory field. The Beam turret was making short work out of any ghouls in the way, and just beyond the line of the swarm hovered The Stillness, side ramp descended and waiting just a few stories off the ground.

Even as the bike raced closer to the edge, the swarm of ghouls thickened. The pauses between laser blasts were growing longer as the system gradually overheated. It was designed to operate on the cold vacuum of space, not some broiling desert planet. Twisted and gnarled hands were beginning to catch hold for moments to a scrap of robe, or a corner of the bike's frame, before losing them to rapid acceleration. Jen'ari had a plan. It was harebrained, and just as likely to land them as a smear on the side of the ship, but it was better than the alternative. The swoop bike let out a sharp wobble as a ghoul's leg was sucked through the repulsor.

"When I say 'Now', we're going to jump this bike onto the ramp!" He hollered into Kat'hari's ear.

"WHAT?!" She hollered back.

Oh well.

"NOW!" He said, using the Force to push with all of his might as the bike launched off a conveniently placed ramp of wrecked cars and sheet metal.

Time seemed to hang as the bike's trajectory revealed the fatal error. They weren't going to hit the ship. They weren't even going to hit the ramp. The world lurched as the vehicle started to fall.

Kat'hari was standing on the seat within the second as she grabbed Jen'ari's tunic. With a massive Force push against the bike, she utilized the remaining momentum to throw them across the remaining gap, and safely onto the ramp.

With a thunderous concussion, the swoop bike exploded as it crashed back to the ground.

With a vast tremor, The Vigilance slipped into the top-most layer of Nar Kreeta's atmosphere. While the transport would stand out visibly, the disturbance of entering the planet should mask their presence to the usual array of sensors. A quick comm relay from Grayson reported that Octagon was on the move, relocating The Stillness to a short patch of salt flat. There was some sort of SNAFU with retrieving the last of the deployed team, and with the quickly deepening crisis and escalating quarantine measures, this situation was becoming rapidly unstable. Grayson's head was pounding, and the stress of this mission was becoming heavy handed. A sense of unease was growing within the Force, and he was just about to transmit all of the current data on the Lagol Antiserum through the sub-space relay to the Temple, when all of his communications jammed.

"Duro, Scythe, are you reading any malfunction on the comm relay?" He chirped through the intercom.

Long silence followed. Grayson flipped the intercom to full-ship.

"Zon, Thunderwalker, do either of you know where the Wookiees are?"

The silence deepened, and a real sense of panic dawned on the Ithorian. His cameras showed empty fields of medical bays, computer consoles, engineering bay and cargo hold. The Vigilance, by all appearances, was empty. Grayson did not trust his eyes, so he drew his lightsaber and prepared for a manual patrol of the ship. He checked the time for reference. Twenty-two fifty. The red binary display of local planetary time was slowly counting the seconds that stretched into the next minute. Grayson set off to see what had become of his ship full of Jedi. What the Ithorian missed was that the numbers were counting backwards.

"Don't bother looking, you won't find them here."

Blood froze in his veins, and the icy claw of the Dark Side of the Force seized his every sense. He turned slowly, cautiously, and peered into the cockpit.

A beautiful human woman, of middle age and jet black hair sat in the co-pilot seat. She stood slowly, smoothing the stark black uniform that contrasted with her white skin. Steel grey eyes nailed him into place, and this woman, this creature composed of solidified hatred, radiated death.

"While we appreciate your … efforts… on behalf of this ant hill of a backwater colony, I believe it would be in your best interest to cease and desist. You will have five minutes to readjust your course and leave this planet. You will destroy all antiserum as well as all of the data used in its creation." She said coolly, with the barest hint of a smirk on her thin lips.

"But we have people on mission, deployed to the surface…" he argued feebly, his hand already deleting the encrypted data that comprised the Lagol antiserum.

The smirk tore into an inhuman grin. "Four and a half, now."

Now. The word echoed in his mind.

i Now. Now… now now now NOW NOW NOW bNOW/b!/i

"MASTER GRAYSON! KICK THE THRUSTERS! NOW!" Screamed Thunderwalker's voice over the intercom.

The world was spinning crazily through the cockpit's window, and security cameras all over the ship were relaying catastrophic images. The engineering bay's laboratory equipment lay shattered and smoking. Antiserum canisters lay broken, leaking their precious contents onto the floor. On the computer terminal next to his chair blazed the message:

ARCHIVE 16 FORMAT SUCCESSFUL.

iWhat have I done?/i

A bead of white-hot sweat slid down Rozen's forehead, across the broken bridge of her nose, and stinging into the deep cut that stretched from her eye socket to her cheek. The sweltering heat of this place was oppressive, crushing and cruel. Worse, was the boiling blood that got more painful with each heartbeat. Focusing precious energy into healing the last of her broken ribs, Rozen fought to keep her breath even and steady. The Force was bursting with potential strength, but she fought to keep it distant, just the barest trickle. So long as that pool remained languid, Pol might continue to believe her sedated.

Three miles north of the compound, a Jedi transport ship perched itself on a salt flat. Tendrils of awareness in the Force stretched out, seeking for a familiar face.

10


	4. Chapter 4

The code had been concise and effective. Had the ship been in orbit, Jen'ari was certain they would have been torn apart in the atmosphere by now. It took little effort to determine when the change was made, and where it came from. With his legs crossed and his mind deep in meditation, tendrils of his awareness searched for Marren's location.

"This is ridiculous!" hissed Juvehil. "She sold us out, why are we wasting time looking for her, when Rozen is still out there!"

"The update to the navigational function was deliberate. She knew we were not in orbit, and she does not make careless mistakes. There is more at work here than we are aware of, and I believe this is a hint at the bigger picture." Replied Octagon levelly.

Without warning, the ground jumped and rumbled beneath the ship as Jen'ari leapt to his feet and snatched the macrobinoculars from their cubby. He punched the external hatch release and was half-way down the ramp before it had fully extended. Despite the earthquake and spinning wildly with the binoculars to his face, like a compass seeking north, Jen'ari found what he was looking for. The Vigilance had breached the atmosphere and was spinning rapidly towards the ground – to their location to be exact. Superimposed between the tumbling spacecraft and the rising full moon hovered a massive Acclamator, keeping pace just outside of the planet's orbit.

Octagon had already replaced the headset and was preparing to launch for rescue when his inbound intercom array signaled another ship was requesting an open channel.

"To the planetside Jedi vessel, this is Commander Qhorroga of the iCaelestis Ferrum/i, flagship of the iFatum Operandi/i. You and your team have four minutes to achieve orbit and leave this sector. Failure to comply will result in swift and severe prejudice." Came a cold female voice over the headset.

Across the expanse of space, twenty-two batteries of orbital strike cannons were taking aim at the colonies descending into nightfall.

Addestratore. The word rolled around in Rozen's mind like a steel weight. It was rare enough, even in Miraluka society. Popular culture had romanticized it to be like love at first sight, but the truth was always more complex.

Rozen's eyes glazed over as the minutes stretched into hours. The smell of death and blood were cloying in the heat, but it served to keep her present and her breath shallow. Exhaustion and pain slackened her concentration, however, and memories started to creep in where there should have been focus.

When she had first met Pol, on the Orbital Station Anetheron, it was like two stars colliding. They always seemed to run into each other, random assignments constantly saw them paired. Even after her reassignment, the Force saw them constantly and unexpectedly reunited. The relationship that followed was simply a matter of course. What they never mention is the price you pay for crossing that line. Once you give in to that bond, you lose the boundary of yourself. Their word becomes law. Their desires become your will, and they have the whole of the Force backing them. Your will, your strength within the Force, belongs entirely to them.

iAddestratore/i. Handler.

Severing that bond was the single hardest thing Rozen had ever done. Now, here he is just yards away, and the ache of belonging to that bond was hammering in at the edge of her senses. This time, however, she had an inner strength that was not present before.

iYou know what you have to do./i Whispered the voice of the Inner Master. A smile creped on to the corner of Rozen's broken lips. She wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh or to sob. Either way, the time was now. A dry laugh cracked through the silence, sending a startled shudder through the pool of ghouls and tattered bits of Rodian clothing.

"What happened to you, Pol? Why all the drugs, the ghouls? Did you miss me that badly?" she managed to spit out with a casual air.

"You have no idea." He replied flatly as he grabbed a fresh syringe. "But since you seem to be coming out of it so quickly, let's give you another dose. It is rather remarkable, don't you think? Synthetic Midichlorians. In a body with a low count, they mimic a healthy population until the energy runs out. But to most Force Adepts, like you and I, it acts like a virus, attacking all of the natural Midichlorians like an immune system. I'm most curious to see if the natural count will return after prolonged exposure."

"What, you mean I'll end up like one of those things in the pool?"

"Ha, no. Those are just over-spiced dead heads who are chemically addicted to midichlorians. The brain thinks that is what gives them the high, you see. Since there is no convenient way for the synthetic Midichlorians to exit their system, they simply become a slave to their cells. Not unlike someone else I once knew." He leaned in close. "Do you feel it yet?"

"What, you mean the pain like razors in my veins? The fact that my heart feels like it's pumping tar?" She retorted snidely.

"No. I mean regret. You could have been a part of this. A part of me. Yet here you are." He raised the needle.

"Please, Pol, you don't have to do this. We can go back, to the way things were." Rozen simpered. With the delicate touch of a feather, she reached Pol's heart with the thread-thin tendril of the Force, and embraced a power she had sworn to abandon. His blood was thick with the Lagol, and Rozen noticed how complete it made his Human disguise.

Pol grew very still, his breathing heavy. She knew that he was being flooded with compassion and doubt that she was forcing him to feel. He was confused, distracted. She would not get a better shot.

Like lightening, she snaked her leg behind his lead knee and wrenched him off balance. It was a simple shove to send him falling into the pool. He laughed as he landed on the torpid ghouls.

"Really?! Was this what you were saving up all of your energy for?" He laughed cruelly. Rozen stood up from the chair, and surrendered the walls keeping the Force at bay. The ghouls whipped immediately into a frothing frenzy.

"No! OH GOD, NO!" Pol's voice cracked as he screamed.

Seeking out the bond to Pol's heart, she replaced the long-severed connection. Decades of his memory flooded her mind as she embraced his essence within the Force. It was so simple, to surrender to his will within the Force. His presence became indistinguishable from hers.

For the briefest of moment, Rozen felt whole again.

She had given years of her life, and taken lives of others, for this man. This poor, cruel, corrupted soul that had cost so much to so many others that she could not even begin to count. She stood vigil and endured this final divide as he paid the ultimate price.

It didn't take long for Rozen to find her gear. The lab techs had scampered off through a back door, but not before kicking open the pen releases. Hungry ghouls seemed to fill every corner of the abandoned warehouse, as well as the courtyard by the sounds of it. They were coming at her like moths to a flame, and Rozen was just too damn tired to hack her way out the door. It was then that she spied the last syringe Pol had threatened her with on the floor, next to her chair.

iThis is a BAD idea…/i She thought as she stabbed the Lagol into her thigh and ignited her lightsaber. It lurched and oscillated wildly in her hands, without the Force to steady and guide them. Burning plasma hacked wildly as arms and teeth reached for the Jedi Knight. Her limbs felt like lead with every swing, but the ghouls were rapidly losing interest.

Half-way to the back door, Rozen noticed a small patch panel against the wall with an illuminated red panic button.

i Oh, bless your paranoia, Pol./i She thought as she rammed the button with the butt of her lightsaber.

"ALERT! The Control Point is self-destructing. Explosion imminent in two minutes!" Echoed a woman's voice.

It took all of Grayson's formidable knowledge and skill as a pilot to right the spacecraft's trajectory. Even then, he counted himself incredibly fortunate. Had Jen'ari not been so deeply immersed within the Force, shining like a beacon in the night, Grayson would have had a much harder time reorienting the ship.

Both The Stillness and The Vigilance were circling in a low holding pattern while their com channels flickered rapidly in data exchange. Juvehil and Zon were already plotting the trajectory out of the atmosphere, while Thunderwalker and Kat'hari were searching hastily for any sign of Rozen.

"I know, but we're out of time!" Barked Octagon into his headset.

"THERE!" Called Kat'hari. "North by northwest, another 6 miles, I'd say."

"She's gone again! What is going on?!" Thunderwalker buzzed back.

Both ships stalled for a split second as a shockwave undercut the lift. To the northwest, a fireball bloomed in angry red and tarry black from an outcropping of rocky hillside. A solemn silence filled both vessels.

"We're out of time." Murmured Grayson, breaking the hush. "Take us out of here, Zon."

Commander Qhorroga of the iCaelestis Ferrum/i was a veritable powerhouse of authority within the iFatum Operandi/i. Her ship was the strongest in the fleet, her ability as a commander unparalleled, and her skill as a Jedi unmatched. Well, former Jedi. The FO wasn't known for its compassion. The ends always justified the means, and in this instance, there could be no overkill. She had been present during the Assembly that had granted it's relatively new and promising acolyte a rather sizable sum of credits. In return, he was to provide the exacting process for the creation of what is commonly referred to as the Lagol Solution. That project had ended a year ago with the acolyte apparently slain and the Solution stolen.

All of her sources in this tedious, year-long investigation pointed at this festering underarm of a Hutt colony. It had seemed so imperative, at the time, to see if the thief had any outside contacts, and it was child's play to set up some pressure with her counter-agents. That Bothan spy's family did the perfect job, and flushed out the contacts within a week. Here they all were, in a tidy little package.

Qhorroga pondered for a moment the value of the Lagol that was likely present on the surface. iOh well./i She thought with casual flair. The iFatum Operandi/i had perfected a more advanced strain months ago. This would hardly be counted as a setback.

"Lieutenant Bantz, open fire." She commanded with steel in her voice to match her spine. Batteries of Orbital Strike Cannons sent searing balls of plasma to the small brown planet.

The twin transports Stillness and Vigilance exited the atmosphere of Nar Kreeta and were slowly gaining a wider orbit. As the sun winked out of view behind the brown planet, a volley of pale orbs littered the atmosphere with flashes of white light. In the cockpit of each vessel, a bitter message played.

"To the members of the Temple of the Jedi Force. This is Marren. If you are receiving this transmission, then the dead man's switch will have done its job. I am sorry I had to wait this long, but there was no guarantee that my mission would be successful. In the access channel under the floorboards of The Stillness, you will find two vials and a datapad. The black vial contains the original Lagol Serum. The blue vial contains a refined Lagol 'Solution'. The datapad holds all of the specs for both. Please, find a way to stop the Fatum Operandi from unleashing it on the galaxy. I wish there was more I could do." Tears were streaming down the lupine face. "If my family… if they make it out, please find them. Find them and tell them I did everything I could. "

The transmission cut out, and silence filled the cold cabin. Arigorn strode down the corridor and quickly located a panel with fresh scratches. Underneath were the prized vials and the datapad, just as Marren had said.

Octagon and Jen'ari were working long-range scans for any other vessels exiting the planet when the scanner set off an unexpected blip. With guarded hope, Jen'ari pulled down the ship's data. It was small A-Wing, hardly meant for interstellar travel. Life signs were reading one… two… THREE! Three life forms! He quickly punched in a comm channel to the ship.

"A-Wing class fighter, this is the Jedi vessel Stillness. Roz, is that you?" He called with barely-restrained hope.

Static filled the channel as the whole ship seemed to hold its breath.

A husky Bothan voice filled the speaker. "Jedi vessel Stillness, this is Karim, first son of the one you know as Marren. I am here with my two little sisters thanks to the great sacrifice of your Master Rozen." Despair dug in its cold fingers, and a second volley rained down on the planet. Karim quickly relayed his story.

"It was maybe two or three days since we were captured. We thought the Gamorrean was a slave trader, but they just holed us up in the pen. It did not take long for them to fill the rest with those ighouls/i. I was sure we were going to be fed to them. When the cage door opened, the Jedi was trying to run out of the building. She spotted us, protected us with her blade. She said she knew where there was a small spaceship hangar. But then, the explosion hit. It was like the world fell apart. She got hit pretty bad. We all made it to the hangar, but only this ship was whole. She looked at the big ship in the sky, and told us to take it, and find you. My mother taught me how to fly, when I was young. I told her we could find a way to all fit, but one of the air filters, I think it was damaged. She said to find you, that you would help us." He trailed off.

Master Grayson, who had been listening in from The Vigilance, piped in on the relay.

"We've been ordered to return the samples to Courscant. As it is, both ships are in need of resupply, and we don't have the firepower to take on the Acclamator to return for her. She is a Jedi. If she is still alive, the Force will guide her." He decreed hollowly.

With the planet between the Acclamator and the three vessels, nav coordinates were compared quickly, and they took off to hyperspace.

Rozen's breath came in slow heaves as she collapsed against the rocks that littered the hidden hangar. The explosion had thrown shrapnel all across her side. It was a miracle that she made it to the hangar with the kids. Lagol was thick in her veins, and she had since lost her ability to see through the Force. She had barely been able to make out the circling Stillness and Vigilance as they left her behind. She didn't blame them. Hopefully those Bothan kids would find them, or at least find a part of the world not blasted into bits to call home.

Orbital cannon strikes rocked the earth beneath her, but she just sat against the rock. It was getting cold, and Rozen was utterly alone. The Force was there somewhere, she knew it had to be, but it was out of her reach again. It was a blessing that she couldn't see the grey of her skin. After several hours into the night, the orbital bombardment stopped. A few hours later, so did Rozen's breathing.

For three days, the sun climbed and set. Rozen's body sat undisturbed, as if in deep meditation. Finally, the body exhaled slowly and slumped to the side.

The rising sun shone coldly through the window of the Temple common room. Octagon sat quietly in a corner with his breakfast of citrus ice and tried to focus on his datapad. The briefing at Courscant was curt and to the point. By all standards, the mission had been beneficial, although the loss of two colonies in quarantine had been tragic. The Jedi and Galactic senate were pooling resources into further investigating the Fatum Operandi, and Mareen's children were in protective custody. It had been three days since he returned to the Temple, and there had still been no word on Rozen. She had been officially registered as Missing in Action, but Octagon was willing to be honest. He may have been distant with his former Apprentice, but their bond in the Force ran deep, regardless. She was gone.

Not too far away from Octagon, Jen'ari padded down the corridor that ran from the kitchens and briefing room to the ops center. He glanced through the window as he walked passed, taking in the cluster of chairs. Nothing had changed since their departure. Rozen's chair sat slightly crooked from where she had almost toppled during that briefing. He smiled sadly at the memory as he continued to walk past.

Flopping into the central chair in the Operations Center, Jen'ari took a swig from his fresh mug of tea and winced at the bruised cheek. His shift was over in a few hours, and he kicked back against the desk to let the automated systems do their job. His eyes dropped, and he was soon lost in a dream of shilli cheese dogs. It jumped and shook violently before turning into black sludge. Dripping like saliva, the black goo fell down into the shape of a door with a needle stabbed through it, and slammed shut.

Jen'ari woke with a start, to find the door to the ops room still open. On the console window in front of him had been typed the letters

G. M. T. L. R.

The End?

8


End file.
